


what's one time?

by burnthesocks



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Huge trigger warning, Relapsing, Self-Harm, i don't know what this is, like this whole thing is centric around self harm so please be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25704643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthesocks/pseuds/burnthesocks
Summary: Hank didn't quite know why he did it. He supposed there was no reason, really, other than the fact that he could.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	what's one time?

**Author's Note:**

> for those who might have skipped the tag, self harm trigger warning. as in this whole thing is centered around it. please be careful <3

Maybe it was the alcohol that made him do it, but deep down he knew that wasn’t quite it. Hank didn't quite know why he did it. He supposed there was no reason, really, other than the fact that he could.

Hank stood in his bathroom and stared at the blade he told his ex-wife he threw away. It had been two months, but he realized he was getting better for nothing. There was no real reason _not_ to do the thing he’d been avoiding for months. He wondered if it really meant he had lost all of his progress if he just did it. Just one time.

He didn’t even have a particular reason. He’d had the misfortune of stumbling across Cole’s photograph and stared at it a little too long, but that wasn’t a reason to relapse, he knew. Even so, he stood in his bathroom, door locked as if someone would come in anyway. He lived with his fucking dog and that was it. No one was here anymore.

No one would save him.

But he didn’t need saving. This didn’t have to mean anything.

Mary had always called him a coward, and she was right. He remembered the first cut was always the hardest.

Hank had no one. The closest he had to a friend was fucking Fowler, or maybe Gary. He was alone. He had no one he was letting down, no real reason to stay clean. He’d already been drinking, there was no true harm done.

Just once.

Hank grabbed the blade and he wondered why he was stalling. It had been so easy before, had been such a shitty habit, he practically had a schedule for it. He didn’t quite know why he stopped either. It’s not like he had anyone to get clean for.

 _It doesn’t have to mean anything,_ he repeated it to himself in his head like a mantra, and he found his shaky calloused hand holding the blade against the scarred skin on his thigh.

What’s one time?

Hank applied pressure and it was barely enough but was satisfied to see specks of blood pooling where he’d cut. The first cut was always the hardest. He enjoyed the familiar feeling of it, not quite painful but not comfortable. It was familiar, and familiarity was easy.

Hank cut again, quicker this time, and sighed when he saw blood drip down his thigh in one spot. As fucked up as it was- as this entire situation was, if he was honest with himself- it was satisfying. He’d decided it was enough when the cuts on his thighs started to sting slightly. He made a half-assed attempt to clean the blood off of his legs before pulling up his boxers as though he’d just took a piss or something.

Hank left his bathroom and sat at his table instead, feeling the faint sting of where he’d cut as he drank from his bottle of Black Lamb. He figured he probably wouldn’t cut again, either. He had no real reason to do it in the first place. He supposed it was just because he _could_. Because nothing was really there to stop him.. And nothing did, that much was obvious by the stinging that was slowly becoming more painful. He took the bottle of whiskey to bed with him and Sumo left him alone that night.

 _Pathetic,_ said the voice that’d haunted him all of his life in several different forms. Most painfully, since Cole’s death, it had been his sweet boy’s voice that spat at him with venom he had never actually heard while Cole lived.

Hank couldn’t bring himself to care as he fell into an alcohol-induced sleep that he hoped he wouldn’t wake from.

**Author's Note:**

> projecting whats that mean?? anyways this is poorly written but i can't bring myself to care tbh just take it i guess


End file.
